Bound for Glory
by Zeech
Summary: Finally achieving everything he has ever dreamed of, finally getting to play the hero, Rimmer wonders if it's still what he wanted.


A/n: I wrote it because I had to. I apologize. --

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**Bound for Glory**

"You're back," Lister seems pleased, but not at all surprised as he walks though the docking bay, munching on pieces of chopped fresh carrot. Why has he suddenly started caring about his health? Every time he looks over his less-than-normal grimy shoulder he smirks, and shakes his head. "I knew you would be."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rimmer snaps, though he is hardly irritated as much as he is thrilled to be back in the dank little Starbug. "I saved two civilizations, you know. I joined the French foreign legion of the fierier galaxy and fought valiantly in the war to keep their planets from being taken over by the tyrants of that dimension. I was decorated! I have so many metals on me I can pick up satellite TV from five dimensions away. And what was your biggest accomplishment this year, Listy? What was it?"

Lister gives him that shoulder-glance smarmy half laugh, and shrugs, turning to face him. "Ah, well…" His brow contorts and he puts some real thought into this. Triumphantly he snaps his fingers. "I've lost three pounds," he holds his jacket open, to the off-white of his long johns. "Feel that rock hard washboard there, Rimsy - eh?"

Rimmer reaches in, ever the skeptic, and gives Lister's middle a prod with two fingers, and arches a brow pointedly. "Hard as a jello mold, like always," he says.

Lister closes his jacket good-naturedly. "Definite decrease in mass, though, wouldn't you say?" Rimmer smiles wryly, and Lister folds his arms across his chest, keeping his eyes glued on the other man's face, in a quiet, fond regard. "You know me, man," he says, softly. "I never wanted all that hero smeg for meself, it's not me." He grins, and reaches out to touch the gold material of Ace Rimmer's sleeve. "S'weird, but I always knew you had it in you."

Rimmer feels a warm feeling spread throughout his empty chest, and he almost smiles. "Really?"

"No," Lister lets out that smeggy hybrid of a half-laugh half-giggle, and Rimmer rolls his eyes. Lister sobers up, and takes a deep breath, keeping his quiet smile and nodding slowly. "But I'm glad," he says. "I'm glad you found what you were looking for out there. Finally got that hero ending you wanted." Rimmer wonders if it was really what he wanted. The cargo bay is loud, now, and filled with a sort of low murmur of a crowd. Rimmer frowns, and concentrates hard. Lister is there, and he exhales softly.

"If that glitter ever stops doing it for ya," Lister holds a hand out to shake, and without as much as a thought he takes it, tightly. "Come on home, alright?" Rimmer frowns, and wants to say yes, yes he will come home – but it doesn't make sense. He is on Starbug. Isn't Starbug home?

He blinks, and Commander Arnold Rimmer finds himself on a platform before a crowd, roaring around him in all of his newfound glory. His ship sets behind him, gleaming in the three suns of Fierier. Of course. Dimension 346.

"Monsieur Rimmer," a man says, as it all floods back to him. "Monsieur Rimmer, will you be staying?" he asks, and Rimmer frowns. He runs a hand through his perfect hair. His fingers momentarily snag on a tangle, and he scowls. Must have been the wind. "There are weeks of celebration to follow this victory!"

He doesn't want a celebration, and if a hero's welcome takes weeks of being away then he isn't sure he really wants one of those either. Home – a dank little transport vehicle, drifting alone in the blackness of an uninhabited universe – has never seemed so far away. He shakes his head, not so much regretfully as apologetically. "I'm sorry," he breathes, distantly. "I don't think I can," The depth has left his voice. He looks out to the crowd, the faces of happy people, all free, all wanting to thank him. All loving him as no others ever have. That he knows it is not entirely true is what keeps him from staying. "I have to get back, you see…"

"But Monsieur Rimmer," the man says, bewildered. "We have only just won!"

Rimmer gives what he hopes to be his final salute, and he tosses his hair. It never has felt quite right over his left-side part. "Smoke me a kipper, I'll be back for breakfast."


End file.
